V-L-V-SH-M-D
NETS, NESTS AND NETWORKS
2025
The village of Sura (63°35′00″ N, 45°38′00″ E) on the Pinega River. Summer of 2024. A conversation with an elderly woman who agreed to shelter me for the night.
Photo №1 – A tree in the cemetery in the village of Sura.
Photo №2 – A trace of plants on my body.
— I came here to learn more about Olya-Deva. In the 1990s, an expedition of ethnographers from Moscow and St. Petersburg, including Shchepanskaya, came here. She wrote a book and described that Olya-Deva was born here. She also recorded an incident in another village, Letopala, where he helped a woman milk cows after she injured her leg. It was written that he sang in a choir with women, practiced folk healing...
— He wore a headscarf. Well, under his hat. (1)
— So you knew him?
— Yes, but he was rarely here. There was also Raya-Nanny; she asked him to babysit. He often visited my mother.
— And how were they treated? Were they mistreated?
— Not exactly.
Photo №3 – A portrait of my great-grandmother Marya.
Photo №4 – A fallen nest in the forest near the village of Letopala.
There are no first-person mentions of «raspetushye» or «raspetukhi» (men in the present-day Arkhangelsk region who engaged in «women's» activities, did not marry, and were generally reclusive). This is precisely why this essay contains so few generalizations and so much subjective experience. However, according to records of ethnographers, their «habitat» extended from Kolezhma (2) to the Velsky district (3). This conversation made me realize that, at least according to my informant, «queerphobia» did not exist in these places. Olya-Deva and Raya-Nanny were perceived as an ordinary part of life and daily routine, filling in spaces of action where networks had frayed—for example, by assisting widows, the sick, and so on.
Photo №5 – A fragment about «raspetushye» from the book «A Year in the North» by Maksimov.
Photo №6 – Photo №6 – A bench by the «zybka» (cradle) used to rock a baby. Photo from «Malyye Karely» museum.
I made the journey from Arkhangelsk to Sura for one purpose: to understand how people like me, or those similar, lived on this land before the arrival of various systems of oppression and globalization. I do not feel like part of «gay culture», and even the etymology of «joyful, merry» (4) does not resonate with me. The word «queer» does not suit me either, as I intuitively do not relate to the practice of reclaiming an insult (5). Meanwhile, «raspetukhi» remind me of a more common insult in the post-soviet space—«petukh» (6). There is reason to believe that the widespread Gulag system in pomorye may have introduced certain words from the pomor language into prison slang, and later into everyday speech (7).
Photo №7 – Items left behind in the bathhouse of an abandoned military town.
Photo №8 – A burned-down house. The photo was taken by my partner.
In prison, «petukhi» are the lowest caste, assigned this status either due to personal circumstances (taking on the receptive role in homosexual acts) or by force (because of specific charges, behavior, or even an unpaid gambling debt). There are many differences between «petukhi» and «raspetukhi», but what defines both is that an external force assigns a «name» to a heterogeneous group of people. All these identities are bound by circumstances and contexts, where one is always expected to conform to a fixed image, occupation, and behavior.
Photo №9– A drug-addicted sex worker under the nickname Kai at his favorite fishing spot. During the photoshoot, it turned out that he had tattoos indicating his belonging to the «petukh» caste.
Photo №10 – The fish [mowa], which was fed to me by another elderly woman in Sura village
Photo №11 – Gustaf Hallström, 1910, Kola, Arkhangelsk Governorate.
For «petukhi», this means tattoos, perforated dishware, segregated spaces, and untouchability. For gay men, it is a mass-media-projected image of drag shows, pop music, and pride parades. In the case of «raspetukhi», academic approaches from metropolitan ethnographers echoed a colonial model—documenting, dissecting society into components, and preserving it without ensuring that those labeled «raspetukhi» had a voice. Or perhaps they themselves did not seek visibility?
Photo № 12 – «The Mark of Cain», Alix Lambert, 2000
Different adaptation practices are common to both me and those described by ethnographers and locals, as well as to some others resembling «queers» in indigenous communities (8). Visibility is not a value for me; I see many negative aspects in it—the potential for cultural appropriation, conservation, and abstraction from life and culture. My friend, when moving from the village to the city, burned his personal diary with queer memories. As he says, it happened almost unintentionally, as if «it just had to be done». Excluding oneself from the public field in urbanized spaces and modernity (where I was born and currently live) is nearly impossible: digital footprints, surveillance cameras, archiving, documentation, passports. If you want to escape these conditions, you not only need to put in significant effort and expose yourself to danger during the process, but you must also be ready to lose your job, home, and social connections as a result. However, it is precisely social connections that can enable invisibility to become a reality.
Photo №13 – Reconstruction of the burning of my friend's diary. In the background – his family belt.
Photo №14 – Staged photograph. I wore the family headscarf as a balaclava, took a photo of myself, and then burned the photo.
I lived with friends for a long time, who helped me, but as soon as I found my «own» space, insomnia would overtake me. There is one exercise for falling asleep—when a thought or image arises, interrupt it and send it down an imaginary stream. On my way from Sura to Letopala, I stopped in the village of Kushkopala on the banks of the Pinega River, where I unexpectedly found a colony of Margaritifera Margaritifera. They are considered an endangered species and are protected near the White Sea. But at that moment, I was far from the sea. The freshwater mussel is dying out due to many factors. During the soviet industrialization, timber rafting on the rivers of pomorye began, which polluted the riverbed, something the mussel is particularly sensitive to, and this is one of the key factors in its extinction (9). The freshwater mussel is connected to the Atlantic salmon, one of the important commercial fish of pomorye (10). The mussel's glochidia larvae grow for a while in the fish’s gills, during which time the mussel releases special substances that allow the salmon to spawn 2-3 times more. Apart from extending the salmon's life, the mussel filters water and accumulates heavy metals (11). The freshwater mussel is part of a complex network interrupted by progress. A pearl is formed from a grain of sand that accidentally enters during filtration. The mollusk feels pain and envelops the rough grain of sand with mother-of-pearl. I feel a special connection with the mollusk, which is now returning to its places because the «economy is in crisis».
I noticed that I sleep well in other people's apartments, in rooms next to celebrations or the active lives of the hosts, hiding in the sink, listening to the river's flow. In communes, we did not reflect on how we lived our everyday lives. It was an unspoken agreement of exchange—if you have something to contribute or help with, contribute and help. As soon as these circumstances morphed into conventional conditions, such as taking the form of a project with a title, a timeline, a general goal and task, budget, roles, and unfamiliar participants, it led to a lack of dialogue between us and, as a consequence, disputes, a lack of solidarity, and the unwillingness to share knowledge, opacity of intentions, submission, and power. In other, better moments, a sense of duty arose, which not only allowed us not to take loans from the state or the bank but also supported a sense of loyalty and trust between each other.
Photo №15 – The semuzhoy komar, a mosquito foretelling the salmon spawning. Often imagined as a «male mosquito» that does not drink blood.
Photo №16 – The way of the freshwater pearl mussel on the Pinega River during low tide.
For a long time, I worked through connections without contracts or taxes. I have three unfinished degrees—the system kept pushing me out again and again. «You write us letters. If you don’t like studying, then don’t study», said one professor after an exam, referring to my post criticizing modern education, which unexpectedly caused a stir throughout the college. In the same college, another professor supported me and immediately assured me that «I wouldn't stay here for long». After my expulsion, we met. – What should I do? – If I had the opportunity at your age, I would travel in your place.
Photo №17 – Archive «Russian Everyday Life». A man dresses in women's clothing for a celebration (a humorous ritual).
Photo №18-19 – Archive «Russian Everyday Life». A man dresses in women's clothing for a celebration (a humorous ritual).
By «opportunity», she meant that at eighteen, I had left home after coming out and making antimilitarist statements, and I was already able to find opportunities for an alternative life. The years passed, and I watched as each of the groups I had left behind formed strong social bonds, solidified by the hardships of education. I, on the other hand—just as I had in school—skipped classes and observed others from the outside, disappearing into hospitals, shopping malls, endlessly circling the city on buses. I traveled.
Photo №20 – Self-portrait. Decorative tears made of pine resin.
Photo №21 – A flycatcher in a village house in an eco-settlement founded by people from St. Petersburg and Moscow.
Wandering from village to village, «raspetukhi» engaged in their first forms of employment, though, of course, they did not frame the process with that word. Without the possibility of integrating into normative relationships, this was their only means of survival. In the North, family structures seemed to me to dominate over communal ones. For example, according to Margarita Tereshchenko, a resident of the pomor village of Yarenga, fishing cooperatives often consisted of single families. In pomorye, lamentation was a widespread therapeutic practice (for example, in my family, we never hired professional mourners—every woman possessed this craft). Funerals, departure for war, weddings—all were accompanied by weeping. People were sent to war as if to death, without hope of return; at weddings, women wept because they were dying in their own family and being reborn in their husband's kin (12).
Photo №22 – An abandoned house on the way from Sura to Letopala. Exterior view.
Photo №23 – An abandoned house on the way from Sura to Letopala. Interior view.
Where does the first death of queers occur? Most likely at the moment of leaving home, the beginning of wandering, a life of hired labor. On Kegostrov Island, the owner of a farm where I was photographing roosters for this essay's illustrations told me, «We don’t let strangers into the barn». I immediately drew a parallel—«raspetukhi» were not only allowed into the barn but also into the home, among the children, into the most intimate spaces. Perhaps for a time, they became part of the family. The ghostly existence of queers, like those who never returned from war or were never reborn into a husband's kin, allowed them to continue an in/between life within family and communal structures. This everyday marginality enabled the accumulation of unobvious knowledge, such as folk healing. Crossing one boundary, the «raspetukh» severed ties with many others, opening space for new experiences impossible within conventional life models.
Photo №24 – The rooster on a Family Farm in Kegostrov.
Photo №25 – I am wearing a dress from the family chest in the forest of my home village.
Photo №26 – Grabilka (a device for picking berries), which was often repaired with metal.
When I accumulated capital that could not be carried in a backpack, I lost interest in life. The capital quickly dissipated—sometimes on good things and help, sometimes on drinks in bars and clubs.
I never went to gay clubs when it was possible, but now my inner search has led me to the Banquet Hall, run by former «travesti artists» Tropikanka and Miss Alexa. In a haze of cigarette smoke, taking shots every half-hour, they told me why they do this. – Unlike other banquet halls, we cook ourselves, host weddings and funerals ourselves, prepare the hall ourselves.
Photo №27 – Miss Alexa in a forest where the orchid (Dactylorhiza) grows.
Photo №28 – Frog spawn in an artificial lake from the next photo with Andrey.
They also struggle with money and integrating into the system, but they are alive and seem to be doing something they love—unlike many other «travesti artists» who died from drug addiction. According to Tropikanka and Miss Alexa, some former «travesti» work as doctors in villages, some as sex workers in larger cities, but «it's unclear how their lives have turned out, whether they are happy».
Photo №29 – Andrey (a history teacher, gay) in an artificial lake that was excavated for a nuclear power plant. The plant was never completed, and now it is a natural body of water, secluded from civilization, a place for fishermen, swimmers, and local flora and fauna.
Photo №30 – Men`s locker room at the public bathhouse in Arkhangelsk.
The hardest thing in the modern urban system is staying fed in the realm of stone, cars, and lawns (especially in north, where freeganism is not a widespread practice that could fully meet bodily needs). In these moments, one may need to step into buffer zones, suburban spaces—to gather mushrooms, berries, herbs, seaweed, and more. While foraging, I often think about how, in my family, this was primarily done by women. In the forest, I feel at home, in the shadow of civilization, trying to communicate and decipher non-human connections. Freeganism, foraging, and gifts from gardens (mainly root vegetables and pickles) easily made for a good table.
Photo №31 – Yatryshnik (Orchis plant), a local orchid named after its roots, which resemble testicles. Some species are considered endangered.

A drink is made from tubers. In folk medicine, the drink is used for poisoning, bronchitis, inflammatory diseases of the digestive tract, chronic cystitis, nervous exhaustion, general weakness, impotence, and as an anti-cancer remedy.
Photo №32 – An egg from which a reptile hatched. Found on the riverbank.
Photo №33-34 – The territory of an unfinished vacuum tube factory. A buffer zone near the city landfill between the city and the forest. Frequently visited by punks, drug users, skiers, mushroom pickers, swimmers, and others.
«Kuim», in pomor language, refers to a table set with leftovers gathered by the community in times of hunger (13). It was often lavish and visibly demonstrated how mutual aid and connections could prevent starvation. Important communal matters were often resolved at this table. On this «kuim», this gathering of fragmented information about those like me, I want to raise the question: how does a ghost live? I am part of pomor culture—one that ethnographers could have severed or left unrecorded—but my ghostly nature allows me to pass through walls (to unravel the tricks of circumstance) and does not require visibility to act.
Photo №35 – Pine roots holding together a crumbling riverbank.
Photo №36 – Me in an artificial trench dug for draining swamps.
The cross-cultural experience of ghosts (the third-person perspective) can be helpful. For example, Tyson Yunkaporta, in his book «Sand Talk», writes: «…painfully fragmented evidence has survived—for example, about the special social roles of homosexual men who were believed to have the gift of soothing crying children and acted as mediators in disputes». This is why I continue to write this essay; otherwise, I would contradict myself by giving this text to an unfamiliar reader through processes that uphold oppression.
Today, many Muscovites and Petersburgers, in search of their lost culture and history, turn to the North, where under the brand «Russian North» (14), «russians» dominate over the complex cultural network of various peoples and ghosts. This is the last thing I would want to happen to this work. While cross-cultural experience is useful, when you start engaging in conversation and action, what will truly matter is your ability to respect, listen, and form connections. Go forth.
Photo №37 – The gaze of a cow from a family farm in Kegostrov.
Another place where I sleep well and feel at home is on the road. The road in search of purpose is almost over. Now, it is more important to help soothe crying children and mediate disputes, to gather, to heal, to sing in choirs with women. I was born an «asphalt pomor» (15), my networks torn not by my own destiny but by the plastic, small-meshed, cheap net placed in my hands from birth—created and transported by unknown forces: urbanization, imperialism, globalization, capitalism, and other systems of oppression. These nets are one of the largest types of waste in the White Sea and bring death to fish, birds, and many others we do not even think of, including ourselves (16). Now, I am on the road, in the homeless sensation of a constant buffer zone. This lifts my spirit to help weave another net—for those who ask for help.
Footnotes and sources
(1) – In T.B. Shchepanskaya's text «Muzhiki i Baby» (p. 115), the headscarf was mentioned, but there was no information about the hat.

(2) – S. V. Maksimov, «A Year in the North», 1871, «From Sumy to Onega»

(3) – A. A. Skulachyov, «Tales of the Flying Snake from the Velsky District of Arkhangelsk Region», 2012

(4) – «gay». Online Etymology Dictionary.

(5) – Online Etymology Dictionary — Douglas Harper, 2021.

(6) – «Petukh» translates from russian as «rooster/cock»

O. V. Starkov, «Criminal Subculture: Special Course». — Moscow: Wolters Kluwer Russia, 2010. — 240 p.
A. P. Shumarov, «Some Aspects of Social Stratification of Convicts in Places of Detention» — Voronezh: Scientific Book, 2011. — 519 p.
V. F. Abramkin, V. F. Chesnokova, «The Prison World Through the Eyes of Political Prisoners». — Moscow: Public Center «Sodétstvie», 1993. — 287 p.
L. S. Klein, «Another Love: Human Nature and Homosexuality». — St. Petersburg: Folio-Press, 2000. — 864 p.
V. F. Abramkin, «Prison Subculture» // Russian Notes — 2008. — No. 2 (41). — Pp. 111–124.
A. D. Vorokhov, D. D. Isaev, A. D. Stolyarov, «Social-Psychological Factors of Homosexual Behavior Among Prisoners» — 1990. — No. 6. — Pp. 93–97.

(7) – For example, the word «loh», which from the Pomor language translates as «an unripe male salmon», transitioned into prison slang and became associated with the meaning «victim».

T. M. Veselovskaya, «Who Are Lohs?», 2001

(8) – «Beyond two-spirit: Indigenous people look to revive traditional LGBTQ terms». Louise BigEagle

(9) – Araujo, R. and Ramos, M.A. (2000) «Action Plan for Margaritifera margaritifera in Europe». Council of Europe, Strasbourg.

(10) – Skinner, A., Young, M. and Hastie, L. (2003) «Ecology of the Freshwater Pearl Mussel». Conserving Natura 2000 Rivers. Ecology Series No. 2. English Nature, Peterborough.

Ziuganov, V.; San Miguel, E.; Neves, R.J.; Longa, A.; Fernandez, C.; Amaro, R.; Beletsky, V.; Popkovitch, E.; Kaliuzhin, S.; Johnson, T. (2000). «Life span variation of the freshwater pearlshell: a model species for testing longevity mechanisms in animals».

(11) – Sharova I. Kh. «Zoology of Invertebrates». — Moscow: Vlados, 2002. — 592 pages.

(12) – «The Northern Russian Traditional Wedding Ritual»
Based on the 1973 Expedition Materials of the Ethnography Department, Faculty of History, Moscow State University, in Arkhangelsk Region
Vedernikova Tamara Ivanovna

«Conscription Rituals»
Drannikova Natalya Vasilievna, 2022

(13) – Alexander Podvysotsky, «Dictionary of the Regional Arkhangelsk Dialect in Its Everyday and Ethnographic Use», 1885

Ivan Moseev, «A Short Dictionary of the Pomor Language», 2006

(14) – In the Russian language, there is a distinction between the word «russkiy» (ethnic Russian) and «rossiyanin» (a citizen of the Russian Federation). In English, this distinction does not exist. In all instances in the text, the first meaning (russkiy, ethnic Russian) is intended.

(15) – A discussion of Dmitry Semushin's expression «asphalt pomor» referring to urban pomors and the «falsified pomor history» in his book «The Pomor Question and the Russian Arctic», Moscow, 2013.

(16) – «White Sea Waste», Ecological Movement «42»*, 2022
recognized as a foreign agent
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
V-L-V-SH-M-D
Hello, my name is van'ka–lenki–vit'ki–shun'ki–mishki–dunina. I am in the buffer zone around the white sea. Here i am engaged in restoring lost connections and repairing nets. I prefer to be an invisible actor and enter relationships with others like me. however, i sometimes work with other actors such as activists, academics and others. together we do «militant research». In this research it is important for me to be dynamic, creative and multidisciplinary, as well as to be guided by anarchistic methods of work that are combined with local and indigenous systems. Since i feel like i and the world around me are in crisis, it is important for me to work with crisis adaptation.

I also relate «zhemtsuzhna rozhin'ka» (pom. margaritifera margaritifera). So you can learn more about me if you learn about the mollusk. you will learn amazing stories about recycling, the white sea, pomor culture, cooperation, longevity and closure.
SPECIAL THANKS
Andrey Vatspan, Ruslansque